Deluded Love
by KeepFlying
Summary: The white coats are intent on mating Max with Dylan. When they twist her brain into feeling what she believes is love, can Fang drag her out of the haze? Currently on hold. WILL BE COMPLETED DURING SUMMER 2012. Anti-Mylan.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: For the record, I am completely against Mylan. Fax FTW! But I wrote this chapter back in March and thought I could twist it into a good story. I may continue it if I get enough reviews, if not I'll probably focus on my other story "Against All Odds" Check that one out if you like this chapter(:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride! The books themselves and the characters in them belong to James Patterson, one of the most incredible authors of all time.**

**Chapter One**

_Max's POV_

Head spinning, body aching, I'm pulled from unconsciousness. My heavy eyelids flutter open and I'm greeted by the bright lights that spin and dance overhead. Where was I? _Who was I?_ I heard noises in front of me, voices, but my hearing and vision were both blurry, like I was looking up to the surface from underwater and hearing everything through thick layers of foam. I blinked a few times, causing the light to burn into my sensitive eyes. Eventually though, I started to see and hear more clearly.

A group of men in white coats are gathered in front of me, making conversation in hushed voices so I can't make out their words. Twisting uncomfortably on the frigid ground, I notice I'm not on the ground at all, but a metal examining table. Thick Velcro binds my wrists and ankles down. I don't really mind, I just wish I could go back to sleep and escape this pain.

Lying on my back is uncomfortable, there's something under me, something attached to my back. My head was throbbing and my back feels like its been pricked with a million needles. The men in white coats still mumble to each other, they don't pay me notice, don't face me, and don't see that I was awake. _Good, Maybe I can get out of here before they notice I'm conscious_. I think. I looked to see if I was attached to machines, an IV, anything. But I was surprised when I wasn't. I was wearing nothing but a white hospital gown and a plastic wristband. My eyes groggily read the words printed in small black text on the bracelet: _avian/human experiment #1_

_experiment...  
><em>  
>It all came flooding back to me. Past conversations and long forgotten words just now resurfacing. Buried memories and tangled thoughts that had been hidden in the deepest folds of my mind and had been unreachable for who knows how long. Maximum. Max. My name was Max. Where was I? This could only be the school. Or at least someplace like it. Itex, maybe. But for all I knew was in another twisted science lab across the freaking globe. They all looked the same. Blank walls, spotless white floors, sterile hospital smell that makes me gag. I could be anywhere. More importantly, my flock could be anywhere.<p>

They could be being tortured or killed at this very moment while I lie unmoving on this lab table... No, I couldn't afford to think like that, not while I was trapped here_. _

_Think Max. You can't save them if you're stuck here. Escape first._

I focused on every detail of my prison cell, looking for exits, weak points in the Velcro, the number of creeps still talking in whispers. Anything.

Just as I was about to make my first attempt at loosening the Velcro, who burst though that door calling my name? The guy I love and hate all at once. The guy I've never accepted to be part of my flock, my family. The guy who still comes back to me after all the pain I cause him. The guy who forgives me unconditionally for everything I put him through. Sandy hair, chocolate colored wings wiping out behind him as he rushed into the lab, bright turquoise eyes practically spitting venom at the white-coats. Those same eyes that are usually nothing but kind and soft and trusting… at least towards me.

_Dylan._

**A/N: I know tons of you will hate me for this…but give it a chance! Stay with me! And please review, even if you didn't enjoy it. Constructive criticism is essential to improvement!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, here's chapter two. And for the record, I do not like Dylan. I won't say I hate him, but I don't want him to be with Max. At all. Ever. So this is not a pro-Mylan story. I just wanted to clear that up.**

**You're probably wondering "Claire, why didn't you update sooner?" And I could give you a few real excuses like "My computer stopped working." Or "I had tennis every day this week." But the truthful reason is that, while seven of you put me on story alert, only four of you reviewed. So I wasn't really eager to get back to writing, and I was disappointed that people read this and subscribed without sharing their critique. A huge thanks to the handful of you who reviewed, it means so much to me that people are taking their precious time helping me improve my writing, or encouraging me to continue, or both. And to those of you who did not review, you still defiantly deserve my thanks for reading, but I feel like I'm wasting my time typing if I won't even get comments. SO REVIEW THIS TIME PLEASE!(:**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Maximum Ride, these things I'm writing wouldn't be called fanfictions, they would be extinctions to the original story. Sadly, that isn't the case because I do not own Maximum Ride, James Patterson does. **

**Chapter Two**

_The School, CA_

_Dylan's POV_

Mymind races as I rush into the lab, one single thought consuming every ounce of my brain:

_Get to Max. The rest will follow._

The moment I burst through the doors of the lab I start taking down white coats. It's simple. It's clear they are incompetent with fighting skills, and there are only three. They are knocked out and on the ground within less than a minute; but not before one of them had managed to pull an alarm. I curse under my breath as sirens start to wail and red lights flash overhead.

I turn around to face Max, who is lying almost lifelessly on the table. Her skin, normally tan and glowing with life, is drained of color and looks almost transparent under the fluorescents. She has always been thin, but now looks starved, the hollows of her cheeks are prominent, and her muscles are almost nonexistent. She's obviously still alive, though. Her chest rises and falls with her shallow breath, her eyes are half open, and she stares at me like I'm her savior. Which, maybe I am. After all, she's nearly dead, but I don't give this much thought. The task at hand is getting out of here, so I focus on that.

Her appendages are bound to the operation table, I quickly undo her confines and she's alert enough to spring to her feet. I spent the few paces it takes to cross the room and fling the door back on its hinges. Thankfully, it was cracked open. If it hadn't been it would surely have locked automatically when the alarms started, something I knew from the little experience I had with escape missions. Just as I'm about to race out the door, Max catches me in a tight embrace, before I know what's happening, her lips are on mine, deliberate and forceful with a million emotions. I've barely grasped what's happened before she releases me, whispers "Thank you for saving me," and sprints out the door, I follow at her heels in a daze, wanting to hold her in my arms again, but we have to get out of here.

We enter a long white corridor with several doors. As soon as we cross the doorway into the hall erasers swarm us. I'm taken aback by how gracefully she takes them down, even in her shaky state. She easily takes on eraser after eraser; I'm amazed at the speed and strength she demonstrates despite her small frame. She knocks them out as quickly as she sees them, delivering roundhouse kicks that snap their genetically strengthened ribs like they're twigs, and punches to their temples that send them to their knees. It's incredible really, what she can manage, especially when you take into account that she weighs not even a hundred pounds.

When she slams her open palms against either side of one's head, effectively popping his eardrums, I realize I'm not helping. I start taking them down myself, but it's clear they are not targeting me, Max is the desired opponent. She is the one they have orders to capture. So I stand in front of her and intervene any erasers that come close to her.

It's surprising how incredibly advanced we are compared to the wolfish beasts we can so easily kill. We're both genetically engineered, neither of us are entirely human, both our DNA's have been mutilated by the same "scientists," and yet we have the obvious advantage. We are lighter on our feet, and much faster. Especially Max. While it's true they are a great deal stronger, they are heavier and clumsier because of it. Their short-fused tempers make them easy to figure out, and therefore, easy targets. Soon the number of erasers pouring though the doors lessens, and we are able to move down the hallway while occasionally coming into contact with one of them. When we're out the door at the end of the corridor we can run without anyone or _anything _standing in our way.

It's easy to get lost in labs like this, no question. All the stark white walls look the same. There are two kinds of rooms: hallways, and the labs the hallways lead too. There's little variation besides that. Size varies, but color is the same. Sterile smell is the same. Gruesome experiments are always horrible and in cages, white coats always seeming to look alike…there's no way to tell where you are, it's misery.

As we scamper through the endless building like rats, it seems increasingly apparent that we're lost, even though this surely can't be the case. We keep running, and an animal instinct to _get out_ seems to take over. I take out an occasional white coat or guard with ease, avian instincts tell me which turn is the right one, and eventually, we get out with what seems like a mob following us.

"The air, Max!" I shout, which is ridiculous, of course. That's the obvious thing to do. And she's already fifty feet above me, white-and-brown speckled wings stretched to their full fourteen feet, surging upward at impossible speed. I don't hesitate to follow.

All I take into notice are the erasers shouting profanities at us from where they stand on the ground, I smirk at the helpless, unarmed creatures. "Not today, assholes," I mutter down at them, far too quietly for them to hear, and soar toward the clouds, towards Max, forgetting the horror below us and only thinking of her, and what lies ahead.

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere, CA<em>

_Max's POV_

We had been flying for hours, we were well away from the school, and were currently resting on a vacant, rocky beach somewhere in California. "You have no idea how much I missed you," Dylan whispers, intertwining his fingers in mine. "I do," I say just as quietly, "it was misery there, the tests were bad, but being away from you was a hundred times worse…life without you is…unbearable," I stammer, it's hard getting the words out, even though they're true. He gives me a warm smile that lights up those incredible eyes, and then he's kissing me, and I don't even consider pulling away, in fact, I do the opposite.

"You mean the world to me, Max," he murmers, kissing down my neck. "I feel the same way about you," I sigh. For a minute, all is silent as we're consumed in one another, and it's so amazing how _right _it feels to be with him. Maybe we're perfect for one another after all. And after a few more seconds I feel him smile at the corner of my lips, he pulls back a few inches, and says five words in a soft, gentle voice. "I knew you'd come around." And I close my eyes as his lips find mine again, his hands tangle in my hair, and all I can hear are the quick paces of our hearts and the lapping of the ocean on the sand.

* * *

><p><em>The School, CA<em>

_Third Person Perspective_

Marissa Walton smiled sinisterly at the monitor, and talked in a businesslike manner into the transceiver wrapped behind her ear and in front of her mouth. "I have visual on avian/human experiments one and forty-seven," Buzzed the static filled voice on the other end of the line. "I see that, Brian, thank you," Marissa murmured, a smile tinting her voice with wrongful happiness. The monitor showed what Brian's camera picked up, and now they were both seeing two winged teenagers happily making out on the beach, very unaware they were being followed.

Experiment one's face showed no shadow of distrust or unhappiness, only the lust of a young girl who believed she was in love. Experiment forty-seven showed no sign of knowing her love was all an illusion orchestrated by herself and her co-director and carried out by the scientists they employed. Everything was going exactly as planned. "Keep following them, Brian," she said, "and stay hidden." She clicked of her receiver before she could hear his reply. She stood up and strut out of the room in her spiky red heels, perfect lips stretched over straight white teeth in a wicked grin.

**A/N: I know it's not super long, but it's much longer than the last chapter and I think this one is a decent length, even though I personally like chapter one better. Let me know what you like or don't like about this story! Help me improve! IF YOU ARE READING THIS, PLEASE REVIEW. I DIDN'T JUST STAY UP 'TIL 2:00 AM WRITING FOR THREE AND A HALF HOURS FOR NOTHING! **

**And also… the more reviews I get, the more pressured I'll be to write. Not only will I put more effort into it, I'll update faster. SO PRESS THAT REVIEW BUTTON!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Let me start off by saying how sorry I am for the super late update! In the time I've been gone I've had almost a week in San Antonio and Austin, a week in Destin, and suffered through two weeks of torturous high school. And I lost all of chapter three and I have to totally redo it. I've also started CO-AUTHORING A STORY! Yes, really! It's a MR fic I'm doing with my best friend Megan, it's about Fang finding his mom, that's all I'll say. It's up on her page so check it out. Her screen name is WizardNinjaOfEpicAwesomeness and the story is called Selfish; if you like my stories you'll love hers, so read some of her other stuff if you like it!(: I'm also sorry for being so desperate for reviews last chapter. That really pissed a few of you off and of course I don't want that, so I apologize. SO without further ado, I give you CHAPTER THREE! Right after an important announcement from JP.**

**DISCLAIMER! "Hey FanFiction readers, James Patterson here. Claire doesn't own any of MY genius flying bird-kid ideas. The epic plot idea for this piece of writing, however, is hers and hers alone. NO TOUCHIE HER PLOTLINE, GOT IT? So yeah, enjoy her story I guess, just read all my MR books first or you won't get it."**

**A/N: OH! One more thing, and this is important, Fang is part of the flock in this fic, and so is Angel! They all care about Max as much as they did in the first few books and Fang loves her as much as he did in FANG. Now read on!**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

><p><strong>Fang's POV<strong>

**Earlier that day**

**The School, California**

I woke up to the sound of honking cars. I guess that's what I got for sleeping in the city. I sat up from where I had slept on the rock-hard, California rooftop. I opened my wings and stretched my arms over my head, trying to work the stiffness from my joints. I laced my fingers together and bent them out in front of me, cracking all eight knuckles. I slid out of the thin sleeping bag I'd been sleeping on for the past couple of nights. Those nights were spent here in California, sleeping on a rooftop dangerously close to the school. The flock was home in Arizona, they knew I was looking for Max, and of course protested when I ordered them to stay put, but I had to do this alone.

I was here too late. I knew I was. She could be dead. Or worse than dead, because who knew what those white coats had in mind? I would have been here the day she disappeared, if it wasn't for the run-in I had with those erasers on the way here. You can't get very far on a broken leg. Sure, I can fly, but it's not like I can without breaks. And I defiantly can't fly at all with the horrible pain that lasted through the first week. Good thing I heal fast. The pain is still here, but at least I can walk fairly easily now. I stood up on the already-warm concrete and the pain spiked up my leg. My femur throbbed and ached and I felt like screaming, but I ignored it. I cursed myself for taking that fall to the ground a few weeks back. Maybe today was it, I should try to run. I sucked in a breath and sprinted across the rooftop. Halfway to the other end I finally couldn't take it anymore and opened my wings, sailing up above the world. I glided the short distance back to the other end of the roof and dropped down to pack everything up.

I unzipped my overused backpack, its black edges were worn and it's once crisp color was faded into a dark gray. Inside were most of my few belongings. An extra pair of jeans, a couple of T-shirts, some protein bars, a bit of money, along with a few more things I couldn't live without. I rolled up the sleeping bag and stuffed it into the pack. I slung everything over my shoulders; it settled itself uncomfortably between my wings. Maybe today wasn't the day I could come to Max's rescue, all that would earn me is a lifetime in a dog crate. But I absolutely had to get to her soon.

I flung myself off the edge of the rooftop with my wings already open, the cool October air was crisp and gliding through it was effortless, like a hot knife through butter. I steadily beat myself higher and higher until I was above the cloud line and invisible to anyone who was watching. I flew the short distance to that hellhole of a lab in no time and dipped down onto another roof. There it was, in plain sight for the whole world to see. The place I was made. The place I was raised. The place I escaped from again and again over the past few years. The place that still haunted my nightmares. It really is incredible no one had shut them down by now. Incredible no one's noticed the horror they've caused in hundreds and hundreds of children over the years. I glared at the place, as if staring it down could destroy it for good.

I settled in for a long day of watching the battered old building when red lights started flashing in its windows. I could hear the faintest trill of sirens coming from inside. This was it. Max was escaping. She must have finally figured a way out of there. I pushed myself into the air again, making wide circles around the place, watching the doorways, watching for her white and brown wings. It didn't take more than a few minutes to see her, but I was shocked when not one but two sets of wings took to the air. I lifted myself higher when I saw the mob of erasers show up behind them, but it was long enough to see she had some help escaping. My blood boiled at the sight of him. His disgustingly close distance from the girl I loved. Something about him made me want to rip his limbs off and set them on fire. I clenched my hands into fists, desperately wishing I could shove one of them down his throat.

_Dylan._

* * *

><p><strong>Marissa's POV<strong>

**The School, California**

Marissa rubbed her tired eyes and gulped down more coffee, its delicious bitterness filled her mouth. It was important that she stay awake today. This was the first day Maximum and Dylan _thought _they were free it was crucial she kept track of them. "Brian, do you have visual?" She hissed into the mouthpiece. "Yes, Ms. Walton."

"Doctor!"

"Yes, excuse me, doctor. I have visual on the experiments; they're still asleep on the beach."

"Well! What are you waiting on? Record them! I need to make observations!" She squawked. The image literally appeared only a few seconds later, just the two of them asleep like Brian had said. They were lying in the rocky sand, Max half on top of Dylan, his arm loosely around her shoulders as he slept. Both sets of their wings were loosely folded and easily visible. She prayed they knew how to stay hidden. She'd try hard not to erase that from Experiment #1's mind, like she had erased countless other things. As if responding to her thoughts, the girl began to stir.

* * *

><p><strong>Max's POV<strong>

**Somewhere, CA**

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the excessive amount of sand in my eyes. I rubbed the gritty little annoyances away. The second thing I noticed was the warmth of Dylan lying beside me, a smile slowly spread over my face when I realized he was with me. A huge yawn escaped my lips and I didn't even bother trying to hide it.

I took in the scene around me, rocky beach, roaring surf, clear skies. Then there was Dylan, his dirty blonde hair was a beautiful mess that was only slightly altered from the color of the sand. His closed eyes and relaxed features made him look younger and even more attractive. I smiled down at his sleeping form and brushed his tangled waves back. His steady breathing quickened, and his eyes fluttered open, exposing his teal irises that matched the ocean. He sat up, stretching out his arms and wings, stretching. "Good morning," I murmured with a smile. His lips spread over a perfect set of teeth. "Mornin'" he responded. His eyes honed on me only to flit away to the beach, the tree line, the rocky cliffs, the clear water. It was like he too had almost forgotten where we fell asleep last night, I know I did.

His eyes lazily glazed over me, studying every inch of me. I suddenly felt self conscious. I hadn't seen a mirror in three weeks. I was still in that disgusting hospital outfit. I just spent the night in the sand. My hair was a tangled mat. Every inch of me was caked in dirt, I felt filthy. "Let's go for a swim," I suggested, desperate to feel the salty water on my skin. "Let me wake up first," he said, almost laughing. He stood up and stretched some more. "You hungry?" He asked. "Yeah. You?" He nodded and sat back down in the sand, he unzipped a red backpack I hadn't noticed last night. Dylan tossed me a couple of granola bars and a lukewarm bottle of water. I smiled graciously and wolfed it all down quickly. He did the same with an identical breakfast. He tossed me a set of clothes that looked like they would fit me. I looked at him questioningly. "I'll go for a quick fly. Let you, er…change," he muttered awkwardly. I laughed at his embarrassed expression, he didn't seem like the type to act uncomfortable about something like this. "Thank you," I said, he seemed to have thought of everything. "'course," he smiled, and took a running start down the beach. I watched him take off, his chocolate wings strong and wide and powerful. He was incredible. I shook my head to clear it, I barely knew him. He was just so…amazing.

I took a second to look at the outfit he had gotten me. Short denim shorts, a tight red V-neck that was way too low cut for my taste. But hey, it was better than a hospital gown right? I undressed and was about to try everything on when I decided to go for a quick dip instead. I flew out a little ways from the beach, staying lower than I ever did to ensure Dylan wouldn't see me. I dove down into the salty water, scrubbed at my disgusting skin, rinsed every bit of sand from my tangled brown hair, and started making my way back to shore.

I dried off with the gross white gown that fit like a potato sack. I sighed at the sight of the stripper clothes. They defiantly weren't my first choice, but whatever. I slipped everything on. The top felt too tight and I was totally exposed, the shorts barely covered what they needed to. I put on my mud caked converse he had thought to bring for me. I smiled at the familiarity of the old shoes. They were the only thing that remained unchanged.

I considered going after Dylan, but decided against it, I didn't want to seem eager for him to see me like this. I squeezed the excess water from my hair, it already felt like straw. All of the sudden there was a prickling at the back of my neck, down my spine. My arms and legs were suddenly chilled. I whipped around, expecting an eraser. No one appeared, but I was somehow certain someone was watching me.

I scanned the tree line, and there it was, the tiniest little red light. Invisible from this distance with human eyes for sure. It was difficult for me to make out. I nonchalantly took to the air, like I was going for a morning flight myself. I started off toward the ocean, the direction Dylan had taken. I only stayed on the path for about ten seconds, then whipped around and rocketed towards the camera man. He wouldn't be expecting this, I was impossibly fast, and there's no way he could escape my reach. I dropped down a few feet behind him in the trees, hoping to flush him out.

It worked. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, which was not very quickly, and soon we were both out on the beach. I swept his legs out from under him, and was rewarded with the satisfaction of seeing him face plant and get a mouthful of sand. I put a foot on his back, putting most of my weight on him. He groaned. "Who do you work for?" I hissed.

I stifled a scream as ashen _wings_ sprouted from his back. Growing on either side of my foot, which was planted square between his shoulder blades. "Please," he whimpered, "Let me help you."

"And why," I spat, "should I let a little peeping tom _'help me?'"_ I pushed down on him harder, he let out a moan. Whiney little bitch. His wings were tiny, there's no way he could fly. Unless he could actually grow them bigger, which wasn't anywhere close to impossible, knowing the school. His left wing slowly flapped, the right remained still. "I'm like you," his voice was hoarse and crackly. "You're _nothing_ like me," I whispered, getting as much venom into my voice as I could with a low volume. I snatched a gray wing and pulled, half-expecting it to come off. He shrieked a few profanities at me, I brushed it off. "Now I asked you," I muttered, _"Who do you work for?"_ I started twisting his feathery appendage. "Stop! Please!" I felt a twinge of pity for him, he was an experiment who seemed to be a white coat, he had no tolerance for pain, he looked twenty-five, and he was following me the morning after I escaped, filming me undress. I released his wing and removed my foot, but nudged him with the toe of my old sneakers. "Roll over," I commanded. Very, very slowly he did as I said and I studied his face. I lightly rested the same foot on his chest.

Greasy black hair fell over his gray-green eyes, his skin was ghastly pale, and dark stubble revealed that he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. "You're nothing like me," I said again. His pale eyes started spilling over tears.

I could barely make out the beat of his wings over the ocean, but as he got closer I could defiantly hear it. I kept my eyes on the man following us. "Max!" Dylan called, dropping down into the sand right behind me. He stepped up beside me. He put his foot next to mine on the man's chest. "Who is this?" He demanded. "I don't know," I answered, but I was spitting the answer down at the suspected-white coat. "He was filming me, he must have followed us," I muttered. Dylan looked murderous, he pressed down slowly on the man's chest, and I could swear I heard his ribs splintering. He let out a blood-curdling scream. "Who sent you here?" He said in a threatening monotone. He sounded so badass it was hard not to laugh, it was so unlike him. "I…I," Dylan moved his foot up to the man's throat. "The school, the school," he croaked. I rolled my eyes, of course that's who sent him. Dylan looked at the poor guy in disgust. His eyes glowered with hate. "Stay away from us," he whispered, and stomped down on his windpipe, crushing the life out of him. The man's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth spilled over with blood.

"Come on," Dylan said, holding his hand out to me, "We need to move on anyway."

**A/N: DUNDUN DUNNNN… Okay, I'll admit, I'm not crazy about the ending. It's the best I could do, sorry guys. Hoped you liked it! Again, sorry for the late update. I'll try to be better about it, but that might be tricky with school. Reviews make me happy!**


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